


Truth or Dare

by Tenoko1



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Blindfolds, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Feels, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Male Aziraphale (Good Omens), Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Safewords, Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sex Toys, Smut, so many feels, they're so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hand and slipped away. They weren’t really giving in, he reasoned as he did a quick circuit of the room. Not if she couldn’t see him and not if he couldn’t kiss her; didn’t make love to her.It wasn’t any great loss, he reasoned, picking up a vibrator with a nozzle on one end. There were other ways to ravish her.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 177





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to treat creators with extra care with the world as it is. We're juggling RL out here, and creativity is the first thing to go when you're stressed, exhausted, depressed, and dealing with more than you know how to. You're not going to want to create when you already feel like you're screaming into a void. Support and encourage one another-- that definitely applies to creators. You can't pour from an empty glass.

As with anything involving Crowley, their missions did not go according to plan.

At least this particular plan going awry wouldn’t put either of them in danger. With Warlock’s eleventh birthday still a year off, ultimately pointless missions were little more than assigned busy work. Aziraphale could report back that the French nightclub’s sudden popularity and spike in lustful desires was simply the work of humans, the result of a popular new singer for their main performance. It wasn’t even a lie.

She was just pretty bait on a hook. Human wickedness was something they achieved all on their own. It usually was.

It had taken Aziraphale more than one miracle to be able to get into the exclusive nightclub. He’d expected something… darker and more nefarious for the city’s wickedest and most elite. It was almost disappointing in its normality. And free will-- however poorly exercised-- was not something Azirphale could interfere with, making his presence unnecessary.

Aziraphale chose a spot in the back, an inconspicuous place for the prerequisite charade of searching for demonic activity while avoiding being seen.

When a uniform hush fell over the crowd, an electric anticipation filling the air before the lights dimmed, Aziraphale straightened. That was curious. Perhaps he was about to witness for himself the cause of the influx in activity and sin.

The assembled patrons were restless with anticipation long before the intro for the blues song began, before the black velvet curtains parted for the singer to step into the spotlight. Her appearance sent a shock of excitement through the room, a palpable charge of riveted attention dominating the floor.

Aziraphale could see why, though his wide eyes and dropped jaw were for a somewhat different reason.

She was… stunning. Everything about her performance was strategically calculated, a lure, a siren, a web to get tangled in. Her red hair fell down her back and around her shoulders in waves. The neckline on the slinky red dress complimented and accentuated her moderate breasts and cleavage. Her black opera gloves and the way the dress clung to her waist and hips drew the eye to the rest of her. The slit up the length of her dress, from floor-to-hip, had Aziraphale releasing a breathless, “Oh.”

He couldn’t be blamed. Not with the way Crowley looked, not with the come-hither sway of hips, her red dress glittering in the light. Not with how she skimmed her fingers over the rod of the mic stand, the sound of her sultry voice filling the air with ideas and temptations. She used her black opera gloves to direct the audience's eyes, gloved fingers trailing the column of her slender throat or across the neckline of her dress as she sang. Even her grip on the mic stand was sensual, hand sliding over it like the caress of a lover. And, oh, the way her hand drifted to the exposed skin over her leg before dragging her fingers up-- _oh lord,_ she was good at what she was doing, no demonic influence needed.

Aziraphale sat riveted, eyes locked on the stage. He knew the moment Crowley sensed him, her contact-lensed eyes scanning the darkness until they found his corner. 

Once, Azirphale would have thought he imagined the way Crowley’s performance became a little more sensual and flirtatious. Now, he knew Crowley did it intentionally. She seemed to enjoy putting Aziraphale on the spot, trying to make him squirm whilst he could do nothing about it. Crowley was, after all, exerting no power over the crowd. 

Crowley didn’t need powers for this. Her voice, her movements, her red-painted lips as she crooned into the vintage stage microphone, it’s silver gleaming in the spotlight. She was an absolute vision.

A vision putting a _little_ more sultriness into her performance just to ruffle Aziraphale’s feathers.

Aziraphale could, of course, get up and leave, but Crowley knew he wouldn’t. The challenge she was presenting him with evident in the way her eyes stayed locked on Aziraphale as she sang.

Crowley underestimated Aziraphale, though.

Sitting forward, Aziraphale rested his chin on the bridge of his fingers, smirking as he held Crowley’s gaze, as well.

She sang two more songs before her act was over.

When Crowley left the stage, slithering her way through the tables and accepting proffered money, the club’s concrete rules kept all patrons from trying to touch her, so instead they fawned over her with offerings. Like she was a goddess.

Aziraphale could never say it aloud, but it was quite fitting.

Crowley’s gloved fingers curled over the back of the chair opposite him.

“ _Angel_ ,” she said. Her voice was something lower, more sultry, when she was in this form. It was... well, it left an impression, Aziraphale would give her that. “What an unexpected surprise. Did you enjoy the show?”

“If only I got to hear you sing more often.”

Her smile turned wicked. “Oh, you’re welcome to make me sing _anytime you’d_ _like_ , Aziraphale.”

He chuckled. “Work sent me,” he said. When she stiffened, he added, “the sudden activity and spike in sin pinged Heaven’s radar, but I can assure them it’s just a nightclub singer with growing popularity.”

She lifted a brow. “ _Just_?”

“One with considerable promise?”

Laughing, she straightened and jerked her head. “C’mon, angel. Let’s go somewhere we can _talk_.”

She led Aziraphale through the narrow hallways to a door leading to the alley, but, instead, let them into a flat.

Well, ‘flat’ wasn’t the proper word, he supposed. There was a stone shower and claw-footed bath beyond a wall of glass, and a set of windows with an incredible view of the city, but they were the only features of the unnatural space that made the room seem as if meant to be lived in.

“Where are we?” he asked, gaze drifting around.

Her large brass bed was the most prominent feature of the space. A rack of clothes pushed against the wall held an array of gowns, suits, and lingerie.

“I think it was meant for storage,” Crowley said, heels of her stilettos clicking against the wood floor. “They built a wall right over the door when they remodelled. Now it’s nothing but a room with a view. Have a seat, angel.”

At her words, Aziraphale glanced around for a sitting place and _really_ took in the room. He jerked, startled by the adult toys casually on display near or _on_ the bed. Their bright colours in vibrant contrast with the snow-white down comforter and bedding.

The only other option for seating was a gold throne with red velvet near a desk. Aziraphale noticed it wasn’t the same one from her flat back in London. Which was interesting.

Another toy dangled over the ear of the chair, its cord allowing the wand with its bulbous end to hang obscenely in plain view.

Aziraphale spared the room another glance.

Well, no more obscenely than any of the others.

Feeling Crowley’s eyes on him, Aziraphale moved toward the throne, moving the device so it hung off the arm of the chair rather than directly by his head.

“Been busy with temptations then?” he asked, tone casual as he removed his coat, draping it over the throne before taking a seat.

Crowley was putting away her stripped off gloves. “Humans do the work for me, you know that. I’m just the nightly entertainment.”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything, dear,” he countered, chin on his knuckles as he watched her. “Certainly, not to me.”

Her movements had slowed, become more deliberate. She cast him a teasing look over her shoulder. “Trying to charm me?”

“You associate charm with deceit. I would never do that to you.” When she didn’t answer, Aziraphale lifted one brow high. “Been keeping company? I’d hate to keep from… _entertaining_.”

That got a reaction like throwing a switch. Aziraphale felt it in the air, on his skin. There was a glint in her eyes as she turned, movements the prowl of a lioness closing in.

Seating herself on the desk’s edge, Crowley lifted her leg, placing the sole of her sparkly red stiletto by his knee as the slit in her dress revealed miles and miles of fair skin.

Her eyes and smirk were mischievous.

Aziraphale had never known her to wear contacts; had never seen her with human-looking eyes. It was… rather disconcerting, were he to be honest.

Her lips spread in a predatory smile showing her teeth. “There has been plenty of entertainment-- with enthusiastic delight, I might add-- but the company has been my own.” Crowley rubbed the toe of her shoe against his knee. “That doesn’t make you _uncomfortable_ , does it, angel?”

Her tone was coy, but Aziraphale knew if he said yes-- or even if she sensed he might be-- the items would vanish from sight with a snap.

He smiled, a crooked and playful thing. After so many years knowing one another-- and filling in for Crowley when the Arrangement called for it-- Aziraphale knew the rules of this flirtation well.

It was his turn to catch her off -guard.

Aziraphale reached for her, knuckles brushing her jaw.

Crowley stilled, eyes darting over his face. When Aziraphale snapped, she startled.

Cupping the side of her face, Aziraphale traced his thumb beneath her honey-gold eye. “There you are,” he said, voice a soft murmur of greeting. A shiver rippled through her as he passed his thumb over the skin again, eyes locking with hers. “I see no reason you shouldn’t give yourself pleasure, Crowley. You should enjoy all the wonderful things your body can feel.”

It was wonderful, the way her eyes flooded with yellow, at his words. Her pupils dilated like a cat’s.

Aziraphale had seen it before; when he’d asked about it, Crowley described it as an involuntary ‘fight or fuck’ reaction. This was the first time Aziraphale had witnessed it as the latter.

Was such a telling response why Crowley always hid her eyes, even from him?

He sat back, careful not to touch her. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t chase your pleasure to the point of being overwhelmed by it.” He cast his gaze toward the window and the Parisian skyline. “Love-- even self-love-- doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I’m an _angel_ , dear. Moving Heaven and Earth is something I’m to _encourage_.”

Crowley blew out a slow breath, her face nearly as red as her dress. “Well, tempt me to sin,” she rasped. “I’ll take two of those in whatever size they come in.”

He smirked at her. “Have you found yourself being tempted?”

“Is this where I make my confessions?”

“Oh, my dear, you need no absolvement from me.”

“Not for anything?” she challenged, a spark once again lighting her eyes.

“Nothing.”

“Is that a _challenge_?” she purred, feet landing on the floor.

“Only if the truth is something you don’t trust.”

Her expression faltered, softened, before she lifted the hem of her dress, arranging herself with one knee on either side of his lap, her hands curling over the gold above his head.

Her red lips nearly bushed the shell of his ear as she asked, “What if that sin is wanting to seduce an angel? What if I’ve wanted to since before I knew the word for this?” Lips close and breath hot, Crowley’s hand trailed down the length of Aziraphale’s arm, moving his hand to her hip where the slit of her dress began. “What if when I come, it’s to the thought of you bringing me there? And your name on my lips?”

“Want and action are two different things,” said Aziraphale, voice a hush. He dragged his thumb over the glittering material of her dress. “It would mean concern for my safety has held you at bay all these years. That sounds less like wanting to _seduce_ me and much more like something else... wouldn’t you say?”

Cupping his face in her hands, Crowley rested her forehead against his, eyes closed. “And the other? What of action?”

Aziraphale could all but hear the hammering of her heart, and was aware of her rapid, shallow breathing, the minute trembling of her body. He could feel her want. And her fear.

“I told you, didn’t I?” he asked. “There’s no reason not to chase your pleasure-- with whatever fantasy gets you there.”

A shudder ran through her, gooseflesh across her skin. She drew in a shaky breath. “Oh, you _are_ daring today, aren’t you?”

“Says the demon who’s been imagining she took off her dress before crawling into my lap.” He tilted his head. “Wishing you were a bit smoother with your flirtations, do you?”

Her eyes snapped open, widening with alarm. They softened when she saw amusement reflected back at her rather than accusation.

Her smirk didn’t conceal the nervousness and want radiating from her, the longing. Nor the emotion neither of them dared give a name to. It was something she once held in better check, but not anymore. Not for a long time.

And it wasn’t something she could hide from him when they were this close. Not when she had her heart racing, and her body ached for contact and friction and _touch_. She couldn’t hide her feelings when they had nothing to do with lust but everything to do with _Aziraphale_.

It was a very dangerous game they were playing.

Sometimes Aziraphale thought it might not be as dangerous as they feared. Something that came so naturally to them, with its outcome so inevitable... wasn’t that what humans called fate? What angels and demons considered Divine Planning? _Ineffable_?

Smiling, Aziraphale nosed at Crowley’s jaw. “Truth or dare?”

It wasn’t a fair question. Not when the truth was dangerous.

She swallowed. “Dare.”

He flicked his blue eyes to her face. “Take off the dress?”

She whined, ragged and miserable. “You play a _perilous_ game, angel.”

“Do I? Isn’t it an angel’s _duty_ to banish shame and encourage love? Even self-love?” When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, Aziraphale raised a brow and smirked. “You already have all these lovely toys at your disposal, after all.”

Crowley slumped forward, head on his shoulder and groaning. “Angel, you keep that up and you’re going to make me come without ever touching me.”

“That responsive, are you?”

“Only for you,” she said, voice a mix between a promise and accusation before she was slipping off his lap. Slender arms reaching behind her back, Crowley hesitated and turned, gathering her hair over her shoulder and presenting him with the zipper at the small of her back. “Help a girl out?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Anything for you. But first...” He reached past her for the black silk robe fastened on a hook. The belt doubled in width as he pulled it free one inch at a time. He held it out to her. “Plausible deniability?”

Her fingers shook as she accepted the black silk, tying it into a blindfold over her eyes.

Aziraphale rolled his sleeves up and undid his tie, taking inventory of what he had to work with.

Crowley turned her head, ears straining to follow his movements now she could no longer see him. He could feel her emotions all over the place, a chaotic storm. She instinctively held her arms to her body, shoulders raised.

Standing behind her, Aziraphale placed a hand on her waist, the other curling around her body to fold her fingers in his.

“The choice is yours, dearheart. Yes or no, to be given or taken freely. You choose.”

She shivered, pressing back until they were a solid line of contact. “Yesss.”

Leaning down, Aziraphale smiled against her neck, giving the pale skin a soft nip with his teeth before pulling away. He didn’t dare kiss her. “Wonderful. Wait here.”

He squeezed her hand and slipped away. They weren’t really giving in, he reasoned as he did a quick circuit of the room. Not if she couldn’t see him and not if he couldn’t kiss her; didn’t make love to her. 

It wasn’t any great loss, he reasoned, picking up a vibrator with a nozzle on one end. There were other ways to ravish her.

Selecting various items, Aziraphale returned to the throne chair, glad for the differences in this one’s design.

Setting the toys aside, Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she breathed, again presenting him with her back.

He smiled. “As you wish.”

Her skin broke out in goose-flesh as Aziraphale slowly tugged on the zipper, pulling it down so Crowley pressed her hands to her chest to hold it up.

Aziraphale traced his finger along the edge of the revealed black lace. “Shall we?”

Lips parted, she took in a shaking breath and held out her hand. As soon as Aziraphale took it in his, she let go of her dress.

The elegant, sparkling red gown fell like a cascade of rubies at her feet, leaving her dressed in nothing more than a black adhesive bra, black lace panties, and her sparkling red stilettos that matched the gown.

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. “Oh… you are a work of art,” he breathed, dizzy and awed.

Crowley was silent, her usual sensual grace and mischief replaced with how she blushed all the way down to her chest and angled her face away. It was a protective gesture, even though she couldn’t see his inspection.

“None of that,” Aziraphale reassured, touching her chin. “You’ve no need to hide from me. Not ever. And I will only do what you want me to.”

Her tongue darted across her bottom lip. “Do you promise?”

“Always.”

Brow furrowed and biting her bottom lip, she said, “Say my name?” He blinked. “You haven’t said it since we arrived. I just… if this is all I ever get, I…”

He took her face in both hands, stroking the line of her jaw. “Crowley,” he breathed. “Darling, _devious_ , brilliant and _beautiful_ Crowley. Don’t think like that. Especially not right now.”

She gave a jerky nod, and he held her steady as she stepped out of the pool of fabric at her feet. When he’d settled into the chair, she willingly followed, one knee on either side of his lap.

Aziraphale ran his palm up her thigh, over the delicate lace, and rested it on her waist.

“I think I could come from just that,” she gasped. She leaned forward, head on his shoulder and hands against his chest, nails pressing. “Just you touching me… I never thought… _Angel_ ,” she said, voice a miserable whine and confession and plea. The endearment encompassing all the things she couldn’t say but needed him to hear.

Aziraphale ran his free hand up her back, fingers curling in her hair as he nuzzled her temple.

She shuddered. “If we live through this…”

He turned, lips brushing her skin as he whispered, “Let’s live through it first, Crowley,” against her skin, the touch as close to a kiss as he dared.

She straightened, voice dropping as she demanded, “Then give me something to wait for.” She took his face in her hands, expression the sharp lines of a glare. “Make it so _nothing_ will ever be enough for me again. Not until that day. _Ruin me_.”

Nipping at her jaw with his teeth, Aziraphale dragged his nails down her back. “ _I plan to_.”

Her response was a soft noise, fingers gripping his shoulders.

Aziraphale shifted, running his hands up her sides until his thumbs met with the underside of her bra. “Off or on?”

“Oh, off. _Off_. The panties, too.”

He smiled against her throat, gingerly peeling the undergarment away and gently running his thumb over the exposed pink skin, soothing it. “Mm, not yet for those. I’m not going to make things _that easy_ for you.”

“ _You call six-thousand-years easy?_ ” she demanded, voice high then cutting off in a whimper at the familiar buzz of a vibrator.

The toy was simple, a black rounded cylinder with hot pink swirls and a single button controlling speed and pattern. Turning it on already had it at the last setting used.

Aziraphale lifted his chin. While he couldn’t kiss Crowley, his lips could still brush her skin.

“I do believe,” he drawled, dragging the vibrator from her heart down to the very edge of the black lace, making her stomach muscles jump, “that _patience_ is considered a _virtue_.”

Dragging the vibrator past where she wanted it, Aziraphale traced the head of it over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His other hand traced up and down her side, reverently smoothing his fingertips over the skin made pink from the adhesive, before dragging his nails over her skin on the trek back down.

Aziraphale would swear Crowley growled.

“I’m a fucking _demon_ , angel. I don’t _do_ patience and virtues, remember?”

He angled his head and smirked up at her. “What of principalities?” he questioned, dragging the toy too lightly over the material between her legs.

She whined and whimpered, trying to grind down, only for Aziraphale to pull it away. “Oh, I would do you until you forgot a world outside my bedroom _exists_.” She fell forward, forehead to Aziraphale’s, gasping and whimpering as he switched his attentions, using the vibrator to brush over her nipple, while his other hand fell to her thigh, thumb stroking the damp material between her legs, so, so close to where she wanted him to touch. All the while, Aziraphale kept his caresses too light to do anything but tease. She tried pressing herself into his hand. “I’d fuck you _so much_ and _so hard_ , and I wouldn’t _stop_ until you _begged,_ until my name was a _prayer_ on your lips.”

It was his turn to shiver, already hard in his trousers but not the least bit concerned with doing anything about it. He was far more invested in taking her apart. Over and over and over.

He wanted to make her _sing_.

Maintaining contact between the vibrator and her skin, Aziraphale wrapped an arm around her thigh for a new angle, sliding the toy against her just as his thumb rubbed the material over her clit with purpose. “Is that so?”

She gasped, a startled cry passing her lips.

Aziraphale did it again.

“Oh god, oh, angel, please, please, please,” she whined. Her grip on his shoulders tightened.

He narrowed his eyes in consideration, pulling away his hand to rub up and down her thigh and lessening the pressure of the vibrator against her panties before turning it off.

She whimpered pitifully.

“Do you trust me?” Aziraphale asked, voice serious.

Crowley stilled, her breathing rapid. “I… Ye… regarding what?” She shook her head. “I mean, yes, fuck, of course, I trust you. I trust you in everything. What are you wanting to do?”

He smiled, warmed to hear such a thing. Even after six-thousand years, Crowley was cagey with a tendency toward paranoia, all of which she hid under a veneer of indifferent nonchalance.

Under different circumstances, the slip of the tongue wouldn’t have happened. Their relationship required reading between lines and knowing when they said one thing but meant something else.

Setting the toy aside, Aziraphale nosed at the pulse point under Crowley’s jaw, skimming his hands down her arms. He carefully rearranged them at the small of her back.

It was a lot to ask. Crowley was already blind, wearing only black panties and red stilettos, and now Aziraphale was asking to bind her hands, to make herself defenceless, trusting him to keep her safe.

He waited, watching her throat move as she swallowed.

“...do you know what safewords are, angel?” she asked. Her voice was soft, careful, as if instructing him how to disarm a bomb. “It’s an intentional word. It means everything stops, immediately and for whatever reason. It means you untie me and unblindfold me.”

Aziraphale frowned, unsure why ‘no’ or ‘stop’ wouldn’t suffice. He’d meant what he’d said about her being in control but if this was what she needed, that was all there was to it. “Alright. What ‘safeword’ would you use?”

“...Eden.”

“Eden,” he repeated, enunciating it to show he understood the gravity of the word, even if a little confused by its introduction.

“We go a long way back, you and I,” she rasped before swallowing again. “Okay. What would you restrain me with?”

“All I have within reach is my tie. A simple sailor’s knot that can be undone with one tug.”

She nodded, sliding off his lap and turning, arms folded behind her. “Okay.”

He touched her hip. “Eden.”

The word made some of the tension bleed from her form. She inhaled and blew out a long breath. “Eden,” she agreed.

When she settled on his lap again, Aziraphale didn’t return straight to the toys. Instead, eyes on her face, he ran palms from her knees to her ribcage and back. “You’re exquisite, you know that? I’d trade sunrises and sunsets, a night sky filled with every star the human eye can see, the loll of the ocean-- all of it-- if it meant keeping you.”

Her eye roll was exaggerated, but her deep blush betrayed her. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” he challenged. “Crowley. I have been lying to God and the archangels for _six-thousand-years_ to keep you safe. I’d sacrifice my sight to ensure your smile. Would go deaf if it meant preserving your laugh. Mutism, knowing you’d hear every word I couldn’t say.” Reaching up, he took her face in both his hands, brushing her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Of all the things ever created, there is nothing I treasure more than you.”

Her mouth quivered, her nose and cheeks tinged pink. “You keep that up, Aziraphale, and you’re going to have to kiss me, consequences be damned.” She swallowed, pressed her lips in a line trying to steady them. “You’re gonna make me say things that could get us both killed.”

“I asked to tie your hands not to physically restrain you, Crowley, but because I want to see you _not_ hold yourself in check. You always hold parts of yourself back, even from me. I don’t _want_ you to,” he insisted. “You don’t _have_ to. I won’t walk away.”

Her chest rose and fell with heavy, uneven breaths. “Angel…” she warned. “If you don’t distract me with whatever it is you have on hand, I swear I will come out of this restraint and blindfold, and _beg you_ to make lov--” Her words were stolen away by a moan and sigh, her head tipping back as Aziraphale turned on the vibrator and pressed it against black lace just as fast.

When he lessened the pressure, she curled forward, head on his shoulder as she let loose a whine that quickly became a shocked gasp and swearing.

His arm around her thigh let him brush the vibrator back and forth between her legs while, with his other hand, Aziraphale rubbed her clit through her panties with long, intent drags of his thumb.

“Oh, fuck, I take it back. Oh, god, fuck, angel. Ruining me-- ah!-- only took you _finally_ _fucking touching me_.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Aziraphale said, smirking as he slipped his thumb inside the lace, dragging the pad of his thumb in a single, long stroke against the heat and wet of her.

She jerked away, back bowing and mouth falling open, a high-pitched sound of need dragged from her throat.

God, she was beautiful.

Aziraphale wondered if Crowley would be this responsive in his male form. If his hot spots and needs would be different. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley preferred one form over the other, or if her body’s appearance depended on her mood any particular day.

There were so many possibilities. Aziraphale wanted to explore and memorize each of them. To wring every sound of pleasure he could from Crowley and drink them down.

But that day was not today.

Aziraphale softened the pressure against her panties, made the vibrator just a teasing sensation.

She whined, falling forward with her head on his shoulder. “Nonononono, angel, don’t do this to me, god, angel, _please_.”

“Oh, but I _like_ you like this. I’m wanting to savor it like the decadent meal it is.”

She straightened, glaring despite the blindfold. “Angel, if you want to eat, I swear to God you can put that pretty mouth of yours to work and _eat_ to your heart's content.”

He laughed. “Dearheart, you’re a feast for the eyes,” he said, murmuring the words against the plains of her abdomen while steadily teasing her between her legs. “Seeing you come apart at my hands is a treat. I don’t want to miss a single crumb.”

With that, Aziraphale bit her and simultaneously turned up the speed of the vibrator, shoving it against her clit.

She let out a startled cry, head falling back as her chest began heaving. ‘Angelangelangelangelangel’ was a mantra on her lips, increasingly growing in pitch.

Aziraphale splayed a hand against her back, holding her steady.

Crowley bucked and jerked, profanities and pleas and gasped out sounds spilling from her lips as her panting grew more frantic. She shook and trembled, the toes of her stilettos pointing out as the fingers behind her back curled into claws.

Her whimpering grew higher and higher _(ohgodangelangelangelpleaseohgod)_ until she tensed, her body locking into place as she trembled, the long line of her slender neck exposed, lips parted. Crowley sighed a long, breathy moan, hips still twitching against the vibrator.

It was a sight too beautiful for even Michaelangelo to immortalize.

Leaning his forehead against her stomach, Aziraphale returned the touch of the vibrator to that of a tease, his eyes sliding shut.

 _Don’t take Crowley away from me,_ he prayed. _Please. I’ve never asked for anything and I never will again, please just let me have this_.

“Angel,” Crowley whispered. Aziraphale lifted his head, seeing the lovely soft curves of her breasts and how she was looking down at him. Her voice was softly stunned. “Untie me.”

In one movement, he did.

Then, she was cupping his face in her hands, thumbs tracing his skin.

“How are you real?” she asked.

Aziraphale wanted to kiss the spot between her breasts, over her heart. Instead, he covered her hands with his own, squeezing them.

“I ask the same thing about you all the time.”

She brushed his cheek again. “I don’t want to be restrained again.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not about… it’s not because I don’t trust you,” she insisted.

“Crowley, you don’t have to give me a reas--”

“I want to be able to touch you,” she plowed on. He fell silent. “Six thousand years, angel. I’ve been stopping myself from reaching out to touch you for _six thousand years_. You don’t want me to hold back, then I won’t hold back, but that means finally getting to touch you.”

Her cheeks and the tip of her nose turned bright pink, and she twisted her mouth to hide how unsteady it grew, wobbling at the corners.

Aziraphale pressed his cheek into her palm. “Don’t, Crowley. Stop thinking worst-case-scenario.”

“I’ve been thinking worst-case-scenario since we met,” she countered, voice thick.

“Your plan will work. Warlock’s turned out to be a good kid, if mischievous. But he’s also _ten_. He’d have no interest in ruling the world. He has no interest following in his human father’s footsteps and becoming a politician.” He squeezed her hips. “This will work.”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

“You know I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s safe for me to do things _to_ you rather than _with_ you.”

She sighed, head lowered. A moment later, she raised it with deliberate slowness. The way she did when she had an idea as reckless as it was gaining momentum in her head. She drew her thumb over his bottom lip. “What if you didn’t kiss a demon? What if a demon stole a kiss from an angel?”

Crowley didn’t say more than that before her lips were on Aziraphale. She whimpered, kissing him like she might never get to again, her fingers in the curls of his hair.

He let out a wounded sound, hands gripping her bottom and hauling her against him before winding a hand into her hair.

She snapped her fingers, and the material that had been under Aziraphale’s palm vanished as she broke the kiss, gasping into his mouth and grinding against his tented slacks.

Aziraphale’s head fell back with a groan.

Face in his neck, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist, moving his hand from her backside to between her legs.

Aziraphale thought he might fly directly _past_ discorporation and die instead. They were torturing themselves, at this point.

God, she was so hot and so wet, the soft, slick bits of her moving over his fingers and palm as she held his hand where she wanted it.

“Please, angel. Oh god, _please_ ,” she pleaded.

Aziraphale hadn’t planned to touch her. Not like this. It was far too intimate a touch to risk, but now. Now she held him right where she wanted him, grinding against his hand and fingers wanting friction and release and _Aziraphale_.

He shifted his hand, finger sliding into her with the next rock of her hips. She immediately clenched down with a whimper, her body tight like it didn’t want to let go. His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing it with her every movement.

Crowley cried out, fingers clutching the front of his shirt as she continued moving, whimpering and babbling, gasping, “More,” against Aziraphale’s neck.

Aziraphale’s fingers were so coated in her want a second finger slid easily inside her.

Even still, Crowley whined. “Angel, please. Oh god, pleasepleaseplease.”

Oh, it was tempting. Aziraphale would have loved nothing more than to rid himself of his clothing, then bury himself inside her as she shuddered and fell apart in his arms.

After this, Aziraphale would have to start sleeping so he could dream that he had done exactly that, that he knew the heat of her, knew what it was like to make love to her. He could dream of frantic desperation and of slow, soft moments where he took his time, extracting every little sound from her he could, writing his feelings into every inch of Crowley’s skin.

Aziraphale withdrew his fingers, and Crowley made a miserable, wounded sound.

“We can’t,” Aziraphale whispered against her temple. She made a noise like a sob, and Aziraphale retrieved one of the items by his side. His fingers curled around the fleshy blue toy as he stopped her movements, fingers gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. He thought she might actually cry from the frustration and want. “We can’t,” he said again, maneuvering her so he could place the toy between them. She gasped as the head of the dildo brushed against her. “But we can pretend,” he murmured.

She made another pained noise, face buried in Aziraphale’s neck as she snapped her fingers.

Aziraphale immediately felt the lubricant coating the fake erection where he held it in an obscene mimicry of what they both wanted.

Crowley reached between them, thin fingers curling around the dildo, giving it a stroke as she sighed Aziraphale’s name.

The sight of it nearly made Aziraphale come, and he held the toy steady as she teased herself on it, letting the head nudge against her, pushing inside just a little before withdrawing.

Crowley’s mouth found Aziraphale’s again as she continued her tease and withdraw, tease and withdraw.

Aziraphale gasped against her mouth, groaning as her movements made the toy and his hand press against his erection.

When Crowley took all of it into herself, clit brushing Aziraphale’s positioned thumb, she shuddered. “ _Angel_.”

“I’m here,” Aziraphale promised, rubbing his thumb in a circle against her. “I’ve got you.”

She leaned forward, one hand braced against the throne and the other fisted in Aziraphale’s shirt as she began moving, tiny gasps and moans slipping past her lips.

Aziraphale alternated between holding her hip, urging her on, or running his hand up her back and down. So much skin under his fingertips was hypnotic. Addicting.

Crowley’s movements grew more determined, harder, faster leaving her gasping against Aziraphale’s mouth. 

It took everything Aziraphale had not to undo his trousers and replace the toy with the real thing. Every shift and grind of her hips had him groaning, had him rolling his hips to meet her movements, had his nails pressing into her skin when she made his eye lashes flutter, moan retrieved from deep in his throat.

Gasping, Crowley laced her fingers behind his neck and pressed their foreheads together, those high-pitched noises beginning to slip past her lips.

“Oh! Ah! Angelangelangel, oh god, oh fuck,” she whimpered and gasped, body trembling and movements getting more frantic.

“Ah! Just like that, Crowley,” panted Aziraphale, eyes steadily trying to roll back even as he forced himself not to come. “Don’t stop—”

“Oh God, oh fuck, uhn, ah, ah, AH, oh gOD, oh fuckfuckfuckfuck. Angeeeelllll,” she whined desperately.

Her words became lost to gasps and cries and whimpers, to sounds of pleasure very much like sounds of pain, her panting ragged and unsteady.

When Crowley came, she was clinging to Aziraphale and crying out, the sound like a sob. It changed, became a long guttural moan as Aziraphale continued rubbing and stroking her clit.

Even though she was already over the edge, Aziraphale continued thrusting the dildo inside of her with one hand, removing his other from her clit long enough to grab and turn on the vibrator again, before pressing it against her.

Crowley shoved herself backward and howled, back arched away from him.

Her panting began again in earnest-- hard, frantic breaths sucked through clenched teeth. A sound like pain rose in her throat. Her riding became little more than shallow thrusts and rolls of her hips as her panting and cries grew higher and more desperate. A sob escaped her, a shattered and broken noise as she writhed.

Biting his bottom lip, Aziraphale kept his eyes locked on Crowley.

Her hand fell from his shoulder, fingers curling around his to keep the toy in place as she bucked and mewled, the hand holding his shirt curling like claws to keep her from falling backward.

She was beautiful, her body sliding against the vibrator with every twitch and buck of her hips. God, the way she widened her legs, obscenely presenting herself as her pleasure and orgasm rolled over and over her, overwhelming her cognitive function as Aziraphale continued fucking into her with the blue dildo and the vibrator held in place by both their hands.

“A... zira… phale…” she said, no louder than the sigh of a ghost.

Crowley was _so. fucking. wet_.

Aziraphale stared in awe at Crowley’s arched body, the tiny noises and low, breathy sounds escaping her throat. He could imagine the way her eyes rolled back behind her lids, lashes fluttering with the same spasms as her body was overtaken and locked in this full-body, toe-curling orgasm.

How could she not see she was art?

Sucking in a sharp breath, Crowley unbowed, movements feeble and clumsy as she pushed at Aziraphale’s hands.

He gently withdrew the dildo, the sound wet and vulgar, and he shuddered at the thought of coming out of her body just like that.

Crowley collapsed against him, panting. Her legs trembled on either side of his lap where she straddled him.

Aziraphale encircled her narrow wrist with his fingers, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat just beneath the skin. He brushed his lips across it. “Alright?”

She made a soft sound, pulling her hand free and sliding her fingers into his hair as she pressed closer, face against his neck. Aziraphale noticed she liked doing that, tucking herself as close to him as she possibly could. Her other hand released the death grip she’d had of his shirt, but she didn’t let go.

Nuzzling her hair, Aziraphale rubbed his palm up and down her quivering thighs. His hand occasionally detoured to gently tease her clit, the light brush making her twitch.

Aziraphale smiled. If she’d found that overwhelming, she might blackout before he was done with her.

Crowley nuzzled his jaw. “What’s the first thing you want to do once this is all over?”

Surprised, Aziraphale blew out a deep breath. “Oh, well… not anything _specific_ , really. I’m just looking forward to not having to worry about our safety. If I’m putting you in danger when we go out together. I lov— I enjoy when you come to the shop, but it also feels like… like hiding something in a way that could be misconstrued as shame rather than fear for your safety.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “I just want us to be able to exist. No more of this constant anxiety and looking over our shoulders. ...You?”

“I want to be able to sit next to you on the bus,” she whispered. Aziraphale stilled, breath caught in his lungs. “Not behind you while we refuse to acknowledge one another. I don’t want to just go to lunch or meet up for dinner. I want to go on dates with you. ...I want to hold your hand. ”

Aziraphale’s eyes pricked, sharp and painful, and he squeezed them shut, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Tonight was a fluke. It would never— could never— happen again. With the dawn, they would put on their masks and go about things like normal, never speaking of this again.

It was too dangerous a wish to have. One that would get her executed were either side to catch wind of it.

Aziraphale didn’t respond.

They’d both already said far too much.

The sound of Crowley coming with Aziraphale’s name on her lips was going to stay with Aziraphale until the day he died. He did not hold any real hope for them to ever be free of their respective sides or to even make it out of this alive. 

Shoving down on the maudlin thought, Aziraphale stroked her again and made his voice sound normal. “Now that you’ve caught your breath, let’s see if I can’t keep my end of the bargain, hm?” Aziraphale selected the pearl pink vibrator with a white silicone head. “What was it you said? ‘Ruin me?’”

Delightful invention. Very innovative. The way it sealed against skin and simulated oral stimulation with unrelenting intent.

Toying with a lock of her red hair, Aziraphale pondered, “How many more times do you think you can come, hm? How many times _in successio_ n?” His voice dropped, temptation curling off his tongue. “How many times with my name on your lips?”

Crowley shuddered, and Aziraphale grinned against her throat.

“You might want to hold onto something,” he warned, pushing her gently backward.

Gold vines sprouted from the arms of his chair, twinning elaborately and blossoming into a cushion of red velvet. It startled a laugh out of her when she settled against it. No longer having to support any of her weight, Crowley’s body was a work of art on full display.

“ _Exquisite_ ,” he breathed, his gaze a reverent caress across her skin. Crowley clasped her bottom lip between her teeth, her face turned away and blushing; an oddly self-conscious gesture he wouldn’t have expected. There wasn’t anything quite so terrifying as being known. As taking off every piece of armor and every mask, letting yourself be seen. “Sunrises and sunsets,” he promised.

An uncontainable smile spread over her face, her face pink with pleased embarrassment. It inspired another wave of unbearable affection in Aziraphale.

“Charmer,” she accused.

His smile was a soft thing as he succumbed, bending forward to press his lips against the skin below her navel, the touch lingering.

Crowley reached for him, her fingers a gentle caress through his hair. She sighed, a quiet whisper of sound that could have been his name.

There was a wonderful joy and fondness to Crowley’s voice, making a broad smile stretch Aziraphale’s lips. She sounded as though she couldn’t imagine being happier.

He loved her all the more for it.

Drinking in the sight of her as he sat back, Aziraphale’s fond smile morphed, became mischievous, wicked.

He was going to make his pretty, little blackbird _sing_.

Crowley tensed as soon as Aziraphale turned the pink device on, the quiet vibrations little more than a tease. A promise of things to come.

Aziraphale increased the speed by two in quick succession, making Crowley suck in a sharp breath, exaggerating the hollow of her throat. He watched her chest, the rapid shallow breathing, and the way her pulse point fluttered.

He bit his lip, wanting to savor it, to draw it out for maximum pleasure. His as much as hers. God, she was beautiful, he thought, running his palm up and down her side again, from rib cage-to-thigh. Preemptively resting his hand at her hip, Aziraphale traced circles into her skin.

When he increased the speed by one, a whimper was yanked from Crowley’s mouth, a reaction she tried to reign in. She was already breathing fast, soft audible panting she couldn’t control.

He grinned, decreasing the speed and watching with delight the disappointment and relief war with each other on her face. They were quickly driven away by a surprised ‘o’ face and sharp cry as Aziraphale increased the speed by two again.

She keened, knuckles white where she gripped the support behind her. Jaw clenched tight, Crowley desperately breathed through her nose, panting ragged and brow furrowed.

“ _Angel_ ,” she said-- warned? whined? he wasn’t entirely sure. Her voice was a high-pitched noise, in the back of her throat, mewls and whimpers beginning to accompany her every gasp.

Raising his brows in mock question, Aziraphale lowered the speed back down to two. The sound that came out of Crowley then was plaintive and layered with a growl. “Too much, dearheart?”

Crowley glared at him from behind the blindfold. “Unless I say ‘Eden,’ you had better _not stop_ or I will make _you_ need a safewo--- _AH_!!!” She keened and squirmed, fingers buried in her hair. “Oh-- ah, ah-- oh _fuucckk_ , angel, you--”

“If you wanted me to go _faster_ , you only had to _ask_ ,” he assured.

Her response was hard to make out but she was definitely swearing-- in multiple languages-- behind her clenched teeth. Some of it at him.

Aziraphale chuckled.

As her pleasure increased-- the sound of her gradual loss of control was a thing of beauty-- Aziraphale rested his arm on her thigh, hand curling around the jut of her hip, as he held the toy steady against her.

Crowley writhed, hands in her hair and back arching.

Her legs shifted restlessly, her body torn between the desire for a reprieve while also planting her knees to buck her hips against the toy chasing her pleasure ( _ohgodohpleaseohfuckAziraphaleohpleasefuckhardermore)_.

Aziraphale grinned when he noticed she was still wearing her sparkling red stilettos.

Crowley’s cries and pleas intermixed with sobs-- so close to the edge, too far from it-- already over-sensitive, each new round left her more and more overwhelmed by the things Aziraphale was making her body feel.

There were eleven speeds on the toy, but he stayed around the middle settings, keeping her on the edge of orgasm with his head canted as he watched Crowley writhe, hands covering her face or in her hair.

Aziraphale teased her until her whines and sobs for more and from being overwhelmed blended together so well he could no longer tell them apart. He loved watching her grapple with magnificent agony, the sound of his name a high-pitched keening in the back of her throat. He liked hearing her beg, sobbing his name-- _Aziraphale, please, oh god_ \-- as her body arched and she tried to find that last little nudge that would tip her over the edge.

God, she was _mesmerizing_.

Eyes fixed on her stunning form, Aziraphale deliberately increased the speed once and then twice.

Crowley sucked in a startled gasp and whimper like she’d seen the waterfall’s edge nothing could save her from toppling over. She sounded pained, her breathing reduced to heaving breaths of air.

Through clenched teeth, the whine in her throat grew louder and higher, and Aziraphale had to hold her hips in place as she all but convulsed-- _ah! Ah! Ohgodohfuck! Ah!_ \-- until her body locked tight, back and chest arching entirely away from red velvet as her head fell back and she _screamed_.

A toothy grin split Aziraphale’s face.

He gingerly lowered the intensity as she collapsed, expression stunned. Her panting was gasping and loud, sucked through her teeth like she were a fish on land, unable to get air. When he removed the toy, Aziraphale brushed his thumb over her in gentle strokes. She jerked automatically, and he grinned.

“Alright there, Crowley?”

“I… just… _wow_.”

“You have a lovely singing voice,” he told her.

Frowning, Crowley weakly raised her head. “I… what?” A beat, and then, “Oh.” She flopped back, grinning. “That was amazing.”

He squeezed her thigh, and Crowley tensed.

Pushing up, Crowley swatted Aziraphale’s hand away, her movements clumsy and unsteady as she crawled forward to straddling his lap.

Aziraphale groaned when she cupped the bulge of his trousers.

“Let me…?”

He took her hand, guiding it up so he could nuzzle the inside of her wrist. He shook his head. “Darling, I wouldn’t _dream_ of it.” His other hand trailed between her legs again, and she obliged him, shifting them wider.

Her perplexion was threaded with worry. “But you haven’t come.”

“My pleasure is unparalleled-- save for maybe yours right now.”

Humming, she leaned forward, smiling as she stole a kiss. “Who taught you how to sweet-talk, angel?”

“If I’m to confess to any sin,” he drawled, using her distraction to reposition the toy and crank the speed to its highest setting, “it’s that I am an insatiable glutton.”

Crowley shoved herself upright, gasp a loud thing as she sucked in air as though breaking the surface of water. Her hands clenched the front of Aziraphale’s shirt and her head fell back.

Aziraphale grinned again. Retrieving the wand from where it dangled by its cord from the arm of the throne, he turned it on and to its highest setting with a flick of his thumb. As before with the smaller vibrator, he reached around her thigh so he could stimulate her with two things simultaneously.

Crowley let out a keening yowl.

Situating the wand between his thighs, ankles crossed so he could hold it in place, Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to settle onto it, to rock her hips as he held the other to her clit.

Lip caught between his teeth, Aziraphale’s grin was one-sided as her head fell back, mouth open in a soundless ‘o’ as she managed to roll her hips exactly _once_ before she stilled.

A long, breathy moan escaped Crowley, hips twitching and body a beautiful arc backward, as though all of her muscles were locked in place by an electrical current.

Crowley started panting again, moan replaced with tiny, gasped out cries, a small, “oh!” like a whisper past her lips as she jerked and then held still save for the way she trembled all over.

Aziraphale wished he’d taken the blindfold off. Wished her could see the way her eyes rolled back in her head as he forced her over the edge and _kept_ her there.

“An...gel…,” she whispered, voice a wheeze of breath, before she began panting frantically again.

“Ah!” she cried, the sound weak and pained, fragile as a flower deprived of the sun. “Ah! _Angel_. _Angel_! Oh!”

“Come for me, dearheart,” he murmured against her stomach, feeling the muscles twitch and jump and _quiver_ beneath his smile. “ _Keep_ coming.”

The next time she started panting, her entire body jerked, her spine bending backward as she came with a shout, the cry of pleasure a beautiful thing made all the more exquisite by the way she found herself immediately at the edge again.

Crowley’s waves of pleasure became a litany of gasps and whines and sobs, her body convulsing almost violently as each new orgasm hit her.

Aziraphale licked a stripe up her skin, biting down gently. Her stunned cries were now replaced with desperate cries that were pitiful and intoxicating.

“ _Angel_ ,” she gasped, hips bucking, “angel, _please_.”

“Anything,” he promised. “What do you need?”

“Oh god, angel, oh god, fuck, please,” she begged. “Pleasepleaseplease _please_ , Aziraphale.”

Understanding dawned, and Aziraphale hesitated, considering the blue dildo beside him before shifting, letting the wand fall away and sliding his fingers into her.

Crowley _screamed_.

Aziraphale nuzzled his forehead against her belly, searing the moment into his memory, the feeling of her tight around his fingers.

“Eden,” Crowley gasped. “ _Eden_.”

Aziraphale removed the vibrator, turning it off and catching Crowley as she collapsed in his arms.

“Oh _fuck_ , I am going to marry you one day,” Crowley slurred, voice a rough whisper as she shook, face pressed into his neck.

Aziraphale didn’t think she meant to confess the words aloud. He wasn’t even sure if she was aware she had.

Miracling them both clean-- Crowley had made a lovely mess of both of them, and Aziraphale was never going to forget it-- Aziraphale wrapped his arms around her, holding her limp form close. The extension of the chair withdrew until it was as though it had never existed, the gold and red throne in its original shape.

Head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, Crowley made a soft sound as she nuzzled closer.

She still wore the red stilettos.

Worried she’d catch a chill, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around her, hands splayed trying to cover as much skin as possible. He practically cradled her to him.

“How do you feel?”

“ _Fantastic_ ,” she insisted, voice wrecked.

“Do you want some water? Tea?” he asked. “Your throat must hurt.”

She shook her head, clearly intent on not moving from exactly where she was-- possibly because she didn’t think she could.

Aziraphale looked across the room to her brass bed and snow white bedding. Without asking, Aziraphale stood, shifting Crowley so he held her bridal style, her head against his shoulder.

She let loose a weak protest.

Chuckling, Aziraphale carried her toward the bed, the lights of the room falling dim. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, hm?”

“Was comf’tble,” she argued petulantly.

Easing her to sit on the edge of the bed, Aziraphale knelt at her feet.

First, he undid her blindfold, cupping her face in his hands as she blinked her eyes open.

Her gaze was sleepy.

“There you are,” he murmured.

Her smile was soft. “Hi, you.”

“Hi, me.”

Palming her calf and squeezing, Aziraphale tasked himself with removing one high-heeled shoe and then the other, setting them aside.

“Angel?”

“Hm?”

When he looked up, her expression was painfully, openly soft. She didn’t have to say it, and he didn’t have to feel it; love was written into every line of her face and in her eyes. “Will you stay?” she asked. “Be mine just until the sun rises?”

“I’ll only ever be yours, Crowley.”

“Then come lay down with me. Let me keep you, if only for tonight.”

He blinked at her, surprised, then warmed. A smile tugged the corner of his mouth up. “I’d love to.”

She smiled dreamily before pushing further onto the bed.

Crowley got comfortable, burrowing under the duvet and among the pillows while Aziraphale rid himself of his vest and shoes.

He was startled when Crowley snapped and he found himself in tartan pajama bottoms and a simple t-shirt.

In bed, Crowley chuckled, already smiling when he turned.

“Come to bed, angel.”

“As you wish,” he intoned, inclining his head and doing as she bade.

The lights turned off as Aziraphale lifted the duvet and slipped in beside her, the only light filtering through the windows from the night sky.

They lay on their sides facing one another. Aziraphale could plainly see her gold eyes even in the dim.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

Her nose wrinkled with a laugh, and then she wriggled closer and into his arms. Pressing her face into the crook of his neck, Crowley snaked an arm around his body and slotted their legs together.

She was still fully naked, Aziraphale noted.

Hand curling into the material of his shirt, Crowley sighed, melting against the bed and Aziraphale in blissful contentment.

“Favorite assignment I’ve ever been on,” she yawned. “I should have invited you to hear me sing _ages_ ago.”

“Is this a frequent, erm, role?”

“My missions are vague. ‘Get up there and make some trouble.’ Nightclubs just make for an easy setting. Be on location and make like Jessica Rabbit. Humans do the rest.”

“Jessica who?”

Crowley laughed, snuggling impossibly closer. “Angel, when this is over, you and I are going to have a movie night. You can see the cartoon characters _very loosely_ based on us.”

Aziraphale rubbed her back. “We should go on holiday together. Once this is all over.”

Maybe he could do with a bit of wishful thinking. Imagine an end to this story that found the two of them free, but more importantly, happy and together.

_And the history books forgot about us, and the Bible didn’t mention us_

_And the Bible didn’t mention us, not even once_

_You are my sweetest downfall_

_I loved you first, I loved you first_

“A holiday,” Crowley agreed, voice thick as sleep settled in. “Get out of the city for a while.” She yawned, weight settling more firmly. “Show you th’ocean…”

Holding her more firmly against him, Aziraphale smiled and let his eyes drift shut. “I’d like nothing better,” he whispered, “than for Heaven and Hell to forget about us. For you to be mine, and to live a life where I could wake up beside you.”

Her words were barely audible when she murmured, “‘s _your_ dare, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled, lips against her hair as he drifted off to sleep, the two of them holding onto one another just as they always would.

He’d take that dare.

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! **Please feel free to leave comments and kudos; no need to be shy.** Also, as on the banner above: for more info on x-posting, WIPs, posting schedules, updates, original writing, etc. check out my profile, and you can follow me on Twitter!


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